


A Basket of Fruit

by ExaltedBrand



Series: March 2021 Promptathon [4]
Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Ficlet, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed, Very Indecent Behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand
Summary: When Agnès finds herself with little choice but to share a bed with Edea in Florem, the night takes a wholly unacceptable turn.
Relationships: Edea Lee/Agnès Oblige
Series: March 2021 Promptathon [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188869
Comments: 16
Kudos: 13





	A Basket of Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt: Agnès/Edea, Facesitting**

Over the course of her journey, Agnès had suffered every kind of indignity. She had suffered the indignity of the Temple of Wind’s corruption; of being pursued across Luxendarc by Eternia, hunted and hounded for reasons beyond anyone’s comprehension; and of being labelled a liar in Ancheim, her home, by a man she’d been led to trust. It hardly seemed possible, after everything, that there could be any greater indignities left in store.

She had been wrong.

That the inn would have divided their group by gender—herself in Edea in one room, Tiz and Ringabel in the other—had been expected. Florem’s rules regarding men were absolute; and even as the town seemed to have strayed unthinkably far from the Crystal Orthodoxy’s teachings, debased by vanity and hedonism, she had been pleased to see that at least _one_ principle of Crystalism had survived the years.

But she was always very particular in her wording. In her requirements for their rooms. Single beds only, with enough distance between them, if possible, to be decent. A request that could be easily obliged in any inn across Luxendarc. It was important, too – for if she was to travel the world as a representative of the church, then she couldn’t be seen to be acting against its principles of modesty and chastity. A separation of beds had always been the simplest way, in her mind, to resist the ever-present temptations of the flesh.

She had hoped that simply being with Edea and Edea alone would have been enough. They were both women, after all; and while Edea certainly had her appeal—her irrepressible charm, and her soft, silky skin, and her tenderness as, on only a _small_ handful of occasions, she had held Agnès close when she’d wanted for comfort, sharing warm, friendly kisses and whispering reassurances into her ears—she was the very last person who could offer up any kind of temptation. She wasn’t Tiz, who so often tempted her in ways he was entirely ignorant of, and—crystals be praised—she _certainly_ wasn’t Ringabel, whose incessant philandering, she was loathe to admit, was starting to have quite the shameful effect on her.

Such hopes, however, had been in vain. For, in defiance of all explanation, the inn had not only failed to accommodate her request for separate beds, but had saddled her with the exact opposite – a small, intimate room for two, with a double bed to match.

A double bed. For herself and Edea. For an entire night.

It had all been out of her control. It hadn’t been her fault that one thing had simply led to another; that the wretched bed, when she and Edea had settled down for the night, had tempted them into far more intimacy than usual; and that what had started as a few platonic touches for the sake of each other’s comfort had escalated, far too quickly, into a fit of passion that would have sent even the most devout of nuns blushing.

And it hadn’t been her fault, most of all, that Edea had decided to take that passion to sordid, unthinkable heights – firmly planting her rear end on Agnès’s face and exposing her to her drenched, dripping folds.

“C’mon, Agnès,” Edea purred. “Won’t you help me out…?”

Why Edea was acting in such an appalling fashion, Agnès had no idea. Perhaps it was simply the bed; or perhaps Florem itself had worked some sinister influence on her, turning her lustful and immoral.

Whatever the reason, though, it was affecting Agnès too. And so—as if she’d lost her senses—she slowly stuck her tongue out, and began to work up and down Edea’s slit.

“Mm…” Edea moaned, rocking her hips and pressing her cheeks down into Agnès’s face. “Y-yeah… Just like… t-that…”

The taste was… less repugnant than Agnès had expected. She had expected such a filthy act to taste just as foul, but to her surprise, it was rather enjoyable. A little sweet – just like Edea herself.

It quite reminded her of a fruit.

She continued; gripped Edea’s hips with one hand, and cupped one of her soft, round cheeks with the other.

“O-oh… ohh…”

She actually liked the sounds Edea was making. Liked them, despite herself. And so, she worked a little harder, lifting her head up from the pillows and pushing her tongue deeper and deeper into her dear friend’s womanhood.

“Ah… N-not bad… We should’ve… _oh_ … should’ve done this sooner…”

Yes; yes, Edea most certainly tasted like fruit. An apple, perhaps, or a pear. The flesh, too, was wet and yielding, like a peach or a melon – and as she gently licked away, it seemed to grow ever wetter, begging to be devoured.

She’d never done anything like this before, but instinct guided her nonetheless, and she used her fingers to spread Edea’s folds, exposing the hard little nub underneath. And then—without even a moment’s hesitation—she gently flicked it with her tongue.

“Whoa…!” Edea gasped. “A- Agnès…! That’s – where’d you learn to— _ah_ …!”

She took a moment to suckle on it, running her tongue along the slick edges; then, as though it were a lovely, juicy grape, she slowly began to nibble on it, grazing her teeth ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, and she could feel it throbbing and pulsing in her mouth.

“Agnès…” Edea warned, bucking her lips urgently, “keep doing that, and I’ll… I’ll…”

Agnès heeded her warning by redoubling her efforts, lashing her tongue as fast as she could – and she was abruptly rewarded as Edea’s thighs clenched around her head and her hips bucked forcefully into her mouth.

“Ah! I’m–!”

Edea’s voice caught in her throat. And then, as she reached her climax, Agnès felt a rush of liquid stain her lips and dribble down her chin – like a burst of the sweetest juice.

She would surely be excommunicated for this: this debauchery, this depravity. Yet if this was an indignity, it was undoubtedly her favourite so far.


End file.
